


broken dreams

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, New Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Avengers #29 spoilers, Dubious Consent, M/M, hickmanvengers, post NA#3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He expects another punch. Shouting. Anything.</p>
<p>He doesn’t expect Steve to kiss him, roughly, as if trying to steal the breath from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	broken dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Avengers #29, some dialogue taken from the issue.
> 
> Basically, "Steve confronts Tony alone. Angry sex."
> 
> Figures Hickman would force me to write a sex scene. It's more sad than angry, really.
> 
> (first posted on [my tumblr](http://laireshi.tumblr.com/post/86167311802/avengers-29-angry-sad-sex-edition-more-i))
> 
> It's been translated into Chinese by [sherilychan](http://sherilychan.tumblr.com/)! [Here's the link](http://www.mtslash.com/thread-120529-1-1.html).

“I remember,” Steve growls.

He’s in Tony's personal space, too close, and Tony can’t look him in the eyes as he says, “remember what?”

“I _remember_ ,” Steve replies, and Tony wishes he didn’t know intimately how Steve looks when he uses anger to cover the hurt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, mocking, trying to distance himself.

Steve surprises him, fists his hands in his t-shirt and holds him like that. He talks, quietly, quickly, and Tony sees how much it costs him not to scream, and doesn’t know what to say to make him _understand_. To see there’s no salvaging things. Not anymore.

“Who was it?” Steve asks, finally, _who broke first_ , and Tony knows what he has to say.

“You.”

The punch doesn’t surprise him. More than that, it’s welcome. He spits blood and tries to stand up, and Steve pulls him to his feet and keeps at arm’s length. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes locked on Tony’s.

“ _You used me_ ,” he says.

“Yes. I suppose I did. And I’d do it again. So what are we going to do about it?”

He expects another punch. Shouting. Anything.

He doesn’t expect Steve to kiss him, roughly, as if trying to steal the breath from him.

It’s wrong, and it’s everything he’s dreamt of and didn’t let himself take when he noticed Steve looking at him in these past months, the betrayal always hanging over him –

It’s wrong, and Steve can’t want it –

It’s wrong, and yet Steve doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t stop and doesn’t take a step back.

Tony tangles his hand in Steve’s short hair and kisses back, desperately, knowing it’s his only chance for it.

He can’t hate himself more anyway.

Still.

He breaks the kiss. “You don’t –”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Steve snaps.

Tony falls quiet. Steve pushes him, until Tony stumbles backwards and hits the wall, and Steve’s on him, his eyes wild, his hand keeping Tony’s wrist over his head.

“What else was a lie,” Steve says, his breath hot on Tony’s face.

“Nothing,” Tony replies.

Steve punches the wall next to Tony’s head, but Tony doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to break free.

The next kiss is no less violent, and he arches forward, meets Steve’s body. He’s dreamt of touching him like that since – pretty much always. He can’t think of a worse moment to do it.

Steve’s hands are digging into his arms, and Tony knows he’ll have bruises there and doesn’t care at all.

“You were so wrong –” Steve says, and Tony kisses him to shut him up, tangles his hand in Steve’s hair and fumbles with Steve’s trousers with the other. He’s designed his new suit, he should be able to open it –

Ah, there.

Steve gasps as Tony pulls his pants down, and Tony’s not thinking anymore, not really.

He puts his hand over Steve, and he’s burning hot.

“You could’ve discussed –” Tony tries to say, and Steve growls and pushes him to his knees.

Tony’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud, and he doesn’t notice the pain. He presses his forehead against Steve’s stomach, feels his muscles trembling, and _how is this happening_ , why is this happening _now_ , everything is so, so wrong –

Steve’s fingers are in his hair, pulling, and Tony can take the hint. He takes Steve in, tries to pretend he hasn’t thought of it countless times.

Tony glances up, and Steve’s eyes are closed, and he’s – Tony wishes the tears on Steve’s cheeks weren’t that obvious, that he wasn’t the one responsible for them.

He stops looking at him and focuses on Steve’s reactions as he pulls back and swallows him again, Steve trembling over him, his hands now just resting on Tony’s head. He stopped pushing him, and that’s the worst, angry Steve Tony can handle, Steve like he’s now he can’t.

He puts his hands on Steve’s hips, urges him forward, and he wants Steve to hurt him, to use him – but he’d never quite reach Tony’s levels in it, would he?

He can at least give him this, Tony thinks. He flicks his tongue, and Steve moans above him. It sounds like a sob.

Tony tries to stop thinking. He tries to focus on numbers, he’s always been good with them, except he can only think of how much energy it takes to destroy a planet and how a universe would react to a void where Earth is supposed to be, and he chokes.

Steve’s hands never leave his hair as he pulls away, fighting for breath, Steve never asks if he’s okay, and Tony doesn’t expect him to, but it stings anyway.

He gives himself a minute, and then moves over Steve again, and he’s hot over his tongue, and Tony’s trousers are too tight, but he doesn’t waste time opening them. Steve is more important.

Steve, who looked so angry when he barged into Tony’s workshop, who was so broken by Tony’s actions, who’s now coming apart under his hands and lips.

Tony looks up again, and this time Steve’s eyes are fixed right on him, his eyes dark with desire, but cold, both far away and too close.

Tony forces himself not to cry.

He pulls Steve closer, deeper, and runs his hand over his stomach, hips, tight, and Steve goes rigid with tension for a moment, and then he’s gasping, something almost like _Tony_ on his breath.

But that’s impossible, isn’t it.

Tony moves away, his lips wet, and watches Steve get his bearings again. He’s aroused, uncomfortably so, but doesn’t make any move to touch himself. He’s so good at denying himself what he wants. So bad at taking care of Steve.

He wants Steve to yell at him, blame him. Steve just roughly pulls him back to his feet, shoves his pants down and puts his hand over Tony –

His brain short-circuits, and for a few seconds it’s just this, Steve’s impossibly hot fingers and his focus and –

It’s too much, all of it, too sudden and impossible and _never happening again_ , and Tony wants to move away, because it’s not for him, not about him, and he can’t, he wants it too much. He bites hit lip to keep himself from making a sound as Steve brings him to his release and it’s all he can do to stay upright.

They look at each other. “You used me,” Steve repeats, and Tony can just laugh.


End file.
